


Christmas at Baker Street

by reveling_in_mayhem



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Christmas, M/M, Parentlock, Prompt Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 5,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27830707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reveling_in_mayhem/pseuds/reveling_in_mayhem
Summary: A collection of ficlets during Christmas time at 221B.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 110
Kudos: 56
Collections: Sherlock Xmas 2020





	1. Eggnog

The flat was decorated in greenery and fairy lights and stockings on the mantle. Billy the Skull even had his own stocking, this year, due to the ever-persistent insistence of a particularly veracious three year old. Rosie was every bit her father’s daughter, stubborn and strong-willed to a fault, and Sherlock absolutely adored her for it. 

It had taken three bedtime stories, a private violin concerto, multiple promises of waking her if anyone heard a single bell from a reindeer-drawn sleigh, and finally the reminder that she actually had to go to bed if she expected Father Christmas to come at all for presents for her. 

All nonsense, of course, but John was steadfast in his belief that Rosie experience as normal a childhood as could be achieved. Considering what John and he did for a living, and everything they had been through, Sherlock conceded that Father Christmas might not be so unbelievable after all.

John came back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Sherlock heard him quietly bustling around and a few minutes later he came into the living room with two mugs and passed one to Sherlock.

The mug warmed his chilly hands, the boozy scent of rum and the spicy cinnamon of the drink filled his nose. Eggnog. He smiled contentedly as John sat down beside him.


	2. Blankets

John sat down and took a sip of his drink. Sherlock’s lean form was still and relaxed on the couch beside him, and John let himself soak in the warmth of the man and the mug in his hands. It had been a long day between getting everything ready for Christmas Eve and Christmas. He had had a shift at the clinic that morning as illness didn’t care about the date on the calendar, and he had seen more runny noses and cases of strep in one day than he had in the previous month. He was exhausted and ready to wind down when he got home, but there had been more to do. 

Sherlock had been home with Rosie all day and when he walked in after his shift to see the two of them camped inside a blanket fort they had created he couldn’t help the swell of affection and sentiment that rose in his chest and lodged in his heart. 

Apparently Sherlock dismantled the fort while John had been upstairs with Rosie. They were all folded and stacked on the floor, except for one that was draped over Sherlock’s legs. He lifted a corner as John sat, and John shifted closer, their thighs pressed together, as the blanket settled over them both. John sighed, smiled, and tucked in.


	3. Snowmen

“What did you and Rosie do today?”

“We built a snowman.”

“How did you build a snowman? With what snow? It hasn’t snowed yet this year, much less enough for a snowman.” 

“We made snow.” 

“What do you mean you made snow?”

“Chemistry, John. Obviously.” An eyeroll. “Sodium polyacrylate and water. Mix them together and viola! Snow.”

“Okay, fine. Why did you make snow, though?”

“Rosie asked for snow so I gave her snow.” A shrug.

“You spoil her, you know that?” Said fondly.

“I know many things.”

“Of course you do.” Agreed indulgently.

“I don’t spoil her.”

“Oh, you do.”

“How is teaching her chemistry spoiling her? She’ll be starting school in a few years and she needs to know these things. It’s a life lesson.”

“Knowing how to make snow from sodium polyacrylate and water is a life lesson for a three year old?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“We live in a physical world where everything is dictated by chemical reactions. Every action has a reaction. One element does this, another does that, put them together and they’ll do something different. Science, John. It’s important.”

“Okay.”

“I do not spoil her.”

“You’re right. You don’t spoil her. I was mistaken.”

“Thank you.”

“What did you two have for breakfast this morning?”

Silence.

“Hm?”

“Chocolate biscuits.” A beat. “It’s Christmas, John!"


	4. Lights

John turned to look at Sherlock, a smile he couldn’t hold back if he wanted to on his face. Fairy lights on the tree and the flames from the fire shifted shadows across the planes of Sherlock’s sharp features and John felt his chest tighten in affection for the man beside him. 

He chuckled. “Yes, it’s Christmas.”

He put down his empty mug on the table, then leaned back into the couch cushions and let his body relax. There was still more to do, of course. There always was the night before Christmas. Especially with Rosie and the traditions that he hoped to pass along to her. He hadn’t followed the ones he grew up with in a long time, but there were some he enjoyed and wanted to share. 

Then there were the traditions that he hoped to add to their celebrations. Ones that Sherlock enjoyed, and there were a few no matter what fuss the man made about it, and even Mrs. Hudson had a couple traditions she had gleefully pushed on them. There was an orange to be placed in every stocking at her insistence, and a pickle hidden in the tree. 

The pickle was, thankfully, an ornament and not the real pickle she had initially insisted on. Her giving up without fight had been a Christmas miracle.


	5. Grinch

“Let’s find a Christmas film, at least.”

“John, Die Hard is not a Christmas film.”

“First of all, yes it is. And secondly, yes it is.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“Fine, let’s pick something else, then. I don’t want to watch the news anymore on Christmas Eve. What about this one?”

“No.”

Click.

“This?”

“Mm, no.”

“Why not? _Love, Actually_ is practically required viewing for the Kingdom during Christmas.”

“I don’t like that actor.”

“Which one?”

“The one that’s in all those other films.”

“Oh, sure, that one. That really cleared that up.”

“I like the actor that’s in the pornography, though.”

“What? You’ve watched Christmas porn?”

“No, in the film. The actor that plays a pornography actor.”

“Oh, that one. Why that one?’

“No particular reason.”

“Hm.”

Click.

“Why did you change it?”

“No reason. I wanted to see what else was on. What about this one, then?”

“It’s a cartoon.”

“Yeah, but it’s cute.”

“He’s green, John.”

“Well yeah, he’s the Grinch.”

“I know who he is, I’m just commenting on his color.”

“I watched this the other day with Rosie, she loved it.”

“She’s a child. Of course, she enjoyed a cartoon.”

“I think we should watch it.”

“I think I need more eggnog before I watch a cartoon.”

“Anything else, Your Majesty?”

“A chocolate biscuit, please.”

“Of course.”


	6. Fire

Sherlock watched as John returned with the eggnog and chocolate biscuit and handed them over with a smile. 

He smiled into his mug as John settled onto the couch beside him with a muffled groan. John adjusted the blanket over their legs before leaning back and into Sherlock again. He took a bite of his biscuit, crumbs falling haphazardly. John lifted a hand and brushed the crumbs away. 

“You make more of a mess than Rosie,” he said with a chuckle as Sherlock frowned.

He lifted the biscuit and shook the crumbs out over John’s head, causing him to jump back and hastily wipe them off his hair. 

“Oi! Was that necessary?”

Sherlock shrugged and stuffed the rest of the biscuit in with a smirk. 

John shook his head, clearing the last of the crumbs, then ruffled Sherlock’s hair with his hand, sending his locks into complete disarray. 

“Was that necessary?” Sherlock asked and John smiled.

“Not at all,” he replied, mischievous fire sparking in his eyes, and Sherlock rolled his eyes before he wrapped his arm around John and pulled him close to his side.

His hand wrapped around the back of John’s warm neck, long fingers brushing against the short strands there, and John relaxed into into his hold. Sherlock smiled and let his thumb brush against John’s earlobe.


	7. Candy Canes

“Do we have any candy canes?”

“Perhaps. Why? I didn’t think you liked them.”

“I don’t. I wanted some for an experiment.”

“What kind of experiment?”

“The kind that I want to do, obviously.”

“Well, sure, but what kind?”

“I wanted to see how long they take to dissolve in different substances.”

“What substances?”

“The usual ones.”

“Your usual ones include some kind of acid. Why on earth would you need to know how long it takes for a candy cane to dissolve in acid?”

“Why wouldn’t I need to know is a far better question, John. It’s better to be prepared.”

“Prepared for what, exactly?”

“A candy cane murderer.”

“A candy cane murderer.”

“Why are you repeating me? Yes, a candy cane murderer.”

“Is this someone who kills using candy canes, or someone who kills candy canes?”

“Kills with candy canes.”

“And why would dissolving them in acid help to potentially solve this hypothetical case?”

“I don’t know, but that’s the point. I need to know in case the information learned ever becomes valuable.”

“Sure. That makes complete sense.”

“So?”

“I may have given the last one to Rosie.”

“You’ll just have to go out and buy more.”

“I’m not going out on Christmas Eve to buy candy canes for you to dip in acid.”

“Where’s your sense of curiosity?”


	8. Jumpers

“John, I have an early present for you,” Sherlock suddenly said.

John turned to look at him with a curious tilt to his head as Sherlock pushed the blanket off of his legs and walked back to their bedroom without a further word. He returned a few moments later with a wrapped box and handed it to John with a smirk before sitting down on the table in front of John. 

John let his eyes flick between Sherlock and the gift in his hands with a wry smile. “And this is something that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“No, you need it for tomorrow,” Sherlock explained.

“Do I need gloves to open it?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and John grinned. “No. It’s perfectly safe. Just open it.”

John’s grin turned to a smile and he turned to the package again. He opened it swiftly, fingers ripping through the wrapping paper, and he pulled open the box. He blinked down in surprise, then pulled out a bright red Christmas jumper, complete with printed reindeer, pine trees, and snowflakes. 

“Thank you…,” John said and Sherlock smirked.

“It gets better.”

“I’m not sure how it could top this.”

“I have matching ones for me and Rosie, as well.”

“You do not!”

“Oh, I do. And we’re wearing them tomorrow for the Christmas party.”

John laughed.


	9. Wrapping

It had taken way more effort than John had anticipated finding the perfect wrapping paper for Sherlock’s Christmas gift that year, but he knew the moment he had found it when browsing through a random shop he had wandered into after picking Rosie up from daycare one day. 

It had been tossed in a pile of discounted wrapping papers that apparently no one wanted and the moment John saw it he picked it up and carried it right to the register. 

He had pulled it out to wrap Sherlock’s gift when Sherlock had gone upstairs after Rosie had called down that she wanted a bedtime story when she was supposed to be asleep. 

The skeletons dancing with festive hats across the bright turquoise paper were positively atrocious and John couldn’t wait to see Sherlock’s face when he saw his wrapped gift.

The gift had been a struggle to keep hidden from him. He had kept it at work for the longest time and then forgot about it on purpose. He didn’t want to ruin the surprise and hiding something this big, this important, from the most observant man he had ever known, probably in the world, was no easy feat. 

He wasn’t sure if he had managed to keep it, but he hoped the paper would be enough of a distraction.


	10. Surprise

“Rosie asleep?”

“Yes, finally. Only took two more readings of _The Night Before Christmas_ before she finally passed out.”

“Only twice? I had to read it four times before she went to sleep the first time.”

“That’s because she’s wrapped you around her little finger and she knows it.”

“Hardly. I just think your voice puts her to sleep.”

“Pardon?!”

“Not in a bad way. Your voice is very soothing.”

“Hmm.”

“Here you go.”

“What’s this?”

“Your gift.”

“Obviously. This wrapping paper is…”

“Yes, the wrapping paper.”

“It’s hideous.”

“Mmhmm. I know.”

“I love it.”

“Open it up, then.”

“John.”

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“I...I don’t know what this is.”

“That’s usually the point with a gift.”

“Yes, but how have you managed to keep it a surprise?”

“Just open it.”

“John.”

“Sherlock. Stop trying to deduce it and just open it, you git.”

“ _John._ ”

“Sherlock, I know it’s terribly cliche this time of year, which is why I supposed you might just miss it because it was so obvious.”

“John…”

“Sherlock, I love you. You and Rosie are the most important people in my life. And, if you’ll have us, I would really love to make our family an official one.”

“...”

“Will you spend the rest of your life with me, Sherlock?”

“Yes, John. Of course, I will.”

“I love you.”


	11. Cold Feet

Sherlock played with the ring that John had given him. It was lovely. A simple band of platinum. Nothing intricate or ostentatious, which was exactly what Sherlock would have picked for himself. The only feature that stood out was the inside of the ring. The date they had met was engraved into the metal alongside the words My Best Friend. 

He honestly hadn’t suspected John to propose. They had discussed marriage, of course. They had even discussed Sherlock legally adopting Rosie in case anything happened to John, as well. But he hadn’t expected John to purchase a ring and propose on Christmas Eve. He knew about his other gift, the one wrapped under the tree in a less horrendous wrapping paper. It would appear that one was a decoy.

John watched him quietly as he continued to study the ring. Sherlock shifted on the couch to turn towards him and pulled his feet up on the couch.

“Are you sure you want to marry me?”

“Of course, I’m sure.”

Sherlock looked down at the ring again.

“I’d understand if you wouldn’t. We don’t have to marry to be together.”

“Sherlock, I want to marry you. But if you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

Sherlock smiled before he tucked his cold feet under John’s warm thigh. 

“I do want to.”


	12. Virus

John’s thigh warmed Sherlock’s cold feet while they sat quietly as the film played on as background noise that neither of them listened to. 

John was giving him the space that he needed, that John knew he would need, to process everything. It was just one of the many things that Sherlock loved about John. 

His mind was buzzing through the proposal as his spun the ring on his finger. John wanted to marry him. He wanted to build a life with him. He trusted him with his daughter. Sherlock loved Rosie as if she were his own, and now she would be. His heart pounded in his chest as he forced himself to keep his breaths even and calm. 

He used to believe that love was a sickness. A virus. Something that made a person weak and foolish. 

He knew now how wrong he had been as a younger man. Love wasn’t the virus that he needed to avoid at all costs. It was the cure to the sickness of the world. His love for John made him brave. It made him want to be better, to do better. 

John held his ankle loosely in his hand, running his thumb over the bone, and Sherlock felt his body completely relax. John turned to him with a smile. Sherlock smiled back.


	13. London Snow

Outside, snow fell, blanketing the streets of London, but inside John felt the heat of Sherlock’s skin against his. The warmth of a love returned in his chest. 

Sherlock shifted closer on the couch, one hand reaching out to thread his fingers through the hair at the back of John’s head, and gently pulled him closer. John adjusted easily as he leaned in to meet Sherlock’s lips in a kiss. Gentle pressure encouraged mouths to open and the kiss deepened as they sat pressed tightly together. 

John could hardly believe most days that he was allowed to have Sherlock in his life again, much less that he was allowed, and encouraged, to have him this way.

And now Sherlock agreed to marry him. Wanted to marry him. He was so happy that he couldn’t stop the smile that grew on his face, effectively breaking the kiss as it turned more into teeth than lips.

He pulled back, a pleased laugh escaping him, and Sherlock smiled. 

“You make me so happy,” John quietly confessed. “I can hardly believe you’re here with me. That you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“I love you, John.”

“I love you.”

“How do you think Rosie will take the news?”

“Honestly, I don’t know if she’ll notice a difference. You’ve always been there. Nothing will change for her.”


	14. Family

“Do you have any idea when you’d like to get married?” Sherlock asked after they had settled back into the cushions again, his feet once more tucked up under John’s thigh. 

“As soon as you want. Whenever you’re ready. Tomorrow or in ten years. It doesn’t matter to me. It’s enough just knowing that you want to marry me.”

“Of course, I want to marry you, John. You’re my family. You and Rosie.”

John smiled as he carefully twisted a curl at the back of Sherlock’s head around his finger. 

“I like that. Us being a family.”

“Me too.”

Sherlock’s smile shifted into a smirk.

“You do realize that when we get married you’ll have in-laws.”

John groaned and Sherlock reined in his laugh to keep from waking Rosie. John turned his groan into a good-natured chuckle.

“If having Mycroft as a brother-in-law is the price to pay for being your husband, then I’ll gladly pay it.”

Sherlock arched a brow at that.

“Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I wouldn’t. He’d probably find some way to use that against you.”

“He probably would.”

“Besides. You get Harry in this arrangement.”

“Ah, yes. Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it, then.”

“What?”

“Clearly we can’t get married.”

“I suppose you’re right. Too much baggage.”

They looked at each other and grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Today kind of ran away with me.
> 
> Thank you all for reading! 💖


	15. Mistletoe

“John, did you put that there?”

“Put what where?”

“This.”

“Sherlock, I love you, but you’re going to have to be specific.”

“Come here.”

“One moment. I’m almost done wrapping this gift. Don’t know how I missed it.”

“You missed it because you didn’t follow the list.”

“What list?”

“The one I made.”

“I haven’t seen any list. Where did you leave it?”

“In my mind palace.”

“How am I supposed to follow a list that I can’t see?”

“I’m not sure how that’s my problem. I made the list. You just needed to follow it.”

“You needed to write it down if you wanted me to follow it.”

“Are you done yet?”

“Almost. Give me a minute.”

“That was a minute. Do you need two minutes?”

“I’m going to need five minutes if you don’t stop talking and let me finish.”

“You’re a clever man. You can wrap and talk at the same time.”

“Maybe if I wasn’t talking to you and wrapping at the same time. Have you ever had a conversation with you while wrapping?”

“I…”

“Don’t answer that. I’m finished. What am I supposed to have put up?”

“That.”

“Mistletoe?”

“Yes.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come stand here.”

“Now what?”

“See?”

“Oh. Yes, I see. John?”

“Yes?”

“I like the mistletoe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was so late! It's been a busy day here. Enjoy! 💖


	16. Antlers

They woke early on Christmas morning. Rosie, by some unfortunate design, was an early riser, but the added stimulant of Christmas appeared to be too much for her to handle, and she woke even earlier than her usual six-thirty. 

John groaned into his pillow as her small body bounded onto the mattress, bouncing wildly between the small space left between him and Sherlock, and sang some version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town with her own choice of lyrics. 

Sherlock plucked her from the air mid-jump and pulled her down into the bed between them and into the covers, causing her to squeal in delight, and there was no hope of her going back to sleep.

“Rosamund Watson, what on earth are you wearing?” Sherlock’s deep, sleep-muddled voice came from the other side of his squirming daughter. 

“Lolly gave them to me!”

“When?”

“Just now. She gave me biscuits!”

John groaned a laugh as Sherlock grunted. Trust Mrs. Hudson to be in their flat at 5am with biscuits for children.

“Lolly has one for you.”

“Oh, no thank you. I will not be wearing those.”

Rosie pulled the plastic headband off her head and shoved it onto Sherlock’s head, who grimaced at her enthusiastic styling.

John laughed at the green antlers sticking out of his dark curls. 

“Those look great.”


	17. Presents

Rosie led the way into the living room, chattering excitedly as she bounced on her toes and then ran up and down the hallway several times with repeated pleas to just move a tiny bit faster to see what Father Christmas left beneath the tree. 

Sherlock tried not to laugh outright at her antics, though he found her enthusiasm rather amusing and it took more self-control than he would have expected. This was her first year with a real appreciation for the idea of an imaginary man breaking into her home and leaving presents, and as ridiculous as he personally found it, he couldn’t deny that watching the wonder in her face as she saw the gifts that were now beneath the tree held its own appeal.

“Daddy! Papa! Look! He came, he came, he came!”

“Look at that, I think you’re right.”

“Can we open them? Please!”

“Don’t you want breakfast first?”

“No!”

“I think Daddy and Papa might need coffee first.”

For such a small being, Rosie Watson was able to express her exasperation with a full-body sigh and eye roll that made Sherlock proud and a touch jealous. 

Then, Mrs. Hudson came through the door with a carafe full of what could only be coffee. 

“Don’t make that child wait, you two. It’s Christmas! Open your presents, dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post this. Sorry!


	18. Tree

Rosie didn’t need to be told twice. She squealed in delight as John went to sit on the floor beside the tree with its colorful fairy lights and pass her the first present he reached for. She tore into the wrapping with all the gusto of an excitable child. 

Sherlock sat down on the couch after accepting two mugs of tea from Mrs. Hudson and passing one to John. John smiled as he sipped his tea and watched his daughter talk excitedly about the new dress that she had unwrapped.

Mrs. Hudson came to join Sherlock on the couch and Rosie included her in her excitement. Mrs. Hudson ooh’d and aah’d at all the appropriate places and John took the moment to just observe the somewhat unorthodox family he had managed to build for himself. He finished his tea while Rosie unwrapped the other few gifts they had given her and was just putting down his cup when Mrs. Hudson suddenly screamed. John hurt his neck snapping it back towards her in surprise.

“Sherlock Holmes! What is on your finger, young man?”

“I believe it’s a ring,” Sherlock replied calmly.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you both. It’s about time, John, honestly.”

“Indeed it is,” Sherlock cut his eyes to John, amusement clear in them. 

“Where’s that Christmas pickle?” John diverted.


	19. Church

Rosie found the pickle ornament after several encouraging hints from Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson while John went to cook up a full English fit for Christmas morning. The pop and sizzle of bacon and sausages filled the kitchen as he sliced tomatoes and opened a tin of beans to heat on the hob. He filled the kettle with water to make tea and listened to Rosie as she played with her new toys, the excitement of finding the pickle already faded.

Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock made their way into the kitchen as he was putting in slices of bread to toast. Sherlock came up to him and kissed his temple in an absent-minded gesture as he reached around him to slice mushrooms to throw in a pan. 

Mrs. Hudson sighed happily. 

“I’m so happy for you two. It really is time. Have you made plans yet? Will you get married in a church?”

Sherlock snorted and John flicked his eyes at his fiancé with a small smile.

“No plans, yet. It’s only been 12 hours, Mrs. Hudson.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. “You will be having a ceremony, though? With a cake after?”

“Whatever we do, ceremony or not, there will be cake after,” Sherlock agreed. 

Rosie ran into the kitchen. “Cake for breakfast?!”


	20. Turkey

“You’ve already had a biscuit for breakfast. I think we’ll save the cake for another day.”

Rosie pouted, but as John set a plate of toast, liberally spread with butter and jam, and bacon on a plate for her, she climbed atop her usual chair and tucked in. 

Sherlock pulled down plates as Mrs. Hudson poured tea for everyone.

“May I have some, Lolly?” Rosie asked as the adults settled in for their breakfast.

“Of course, dear,” she said, and John watched as she splashed just enough tea into a cup of milk to change the color, along with a small spoonful of sugar. She cut her eyes at John before giving a wink. “It is Christmas, after all.”

John shook his head with a wry smile, but let it slide as he watched his daughter eagerly accept her extremely milky tea. Rosie wrinkled her nose slightly at the taste, but when she looked up at all the adults watching her, she sat up straight, and nodded importantly. 

“Yum,” she said and quickly ate more toast.

Mrs. Hudson laughed before turning back to the men and her meal.

“Thank you for cooking, John. This is lovely.”

“You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do since you’ve offered to cook Christmas dinner.”

“Oh, it’s just a turkey. Nothing to fuss over, dear.”


	21. Advent

Martha made her way downstairs after the breakfast John had made to give the little family some time together to enjoy their Christmas morning. Rosie had been happily playing with her new doll over by the tree and the boys were drinking their tea and speaking softly to one another when she had left them.

She could hardly believe what she saw on Sherlock’s fingers earlier and the all too brief conversation they had had about the exciting turn of events. They hadn’t even told her how John proposed yet! She was sure it was terribly romantic, but they hadn’t said a word. No matter. She’d get it out of them at dinner, she was sure.

Martha sighed happily to herself as she entered her kitchen and set about her dinner preparations and coming up with all the questions she wanted answers to. Hopefully, they would take advantage of her being down here to start making plans for their special day. She had always known they would make a lovely couple, no matter how much those two darling boys protested their couplehood. She knew, though. The whole time, she knew.

She went out to her living room and fussed about with her advent wreath. She would light the last candle tonight and get the story from them over some mulled wine.


	22. Cards

When John entered the living room, it was to the sight of Rosie fast asleep on the couch with her new doll and a warm blanket tucked around her small form while Sherlock stood in front of the fire, admiring the Christmas cards that were arranged upon the mantle. 

“Did you see this card from Lestrade?” Sherlock asked as John handed him a glass filled with the cocktail that Mrs. Hudson had insisted they needed to provide for the gathering they would be having later. It was red and festive and filled with gin, so John figured it would fill the requirement Mrs. Hudson exacted on them. 

“I did.”

“What on earth are they wearing?” 

“The jumpers?”

“Yes. They’re hideous. Why do they all match?”

John laughed. “It’s just something people do. Matching Christmas jumpers. You bought matching ones for us, you git!”

“Yes, but they aren’t hideous. Nor are they on a card we mailed to all of our friends and family. Why are we displaying this?”

John shook his head with a smile

“Shut up and try that.”

“A bit light on the gin, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t want to get everyone sloshed in one drink.”

“Add more gin. No one will want to talk or deal with Lestrade while sober if he shows up in that jumper.”


	23. Party

Greg did, in fact, arrive in the offending jumper that evening and John couldn’t stop the laugh that rose out of him when he saw Sherlock’s face. It really wasn’t that bad. It was a bit chaotic, perhaps, but John was fairly sure that was the point. Besides, Sherlock’s arched brow and look was kind of lost as he stood in his own ridiculous jumper that matched him and Rosie. John hadn’t really thought he was telling the truth when he said he had matching ones for them all, but he was honestly delighted to have been wrong. 

It was a small party. Lestrade had arrived alone, but Molly had shown up with her new beau, who Sherlock actually seemed to approve of, and Mrs. Hudson was there, of course. Mike and his wife had come and were currently enjoying the gin-heavy cocktail. John poured a glass of the wine that Greg brought for the DI and for himself and made his way around the room as Rosie entertained everyone with stories about elves and Saint Nick. 

John finally made it to Sherlock’s side and slipped an arm around his waist, pulling him close.

Sherlock leaned towards him. “Should we say anything?”

“About the engagement?”

“Yes.”

John thought about it, then shook his head. “Not tonight. We’ll tell them soon, though.”


	24. Romance

Later that night, when their friends and adopted family had left, and Rosie was fast asleep tucked in her bed, John and Sherlock found themselves sitting on the couch once again as the telly played softly in the background. They were pressed close together, bodies warm under the blanket across their laps, as the lights on their tree twinkled and the flames from the fire danced. John leaned his head on Sherlock’s shoulder as they watched the film, fingers entwined on top of the blanket.

It had been a perfect Christmas. No emergencies, no running after anyone, nothing more troubling than the punch running low before they expected, but luckily, they were well-stocked in good scotch. 

When they finally got up to head to bed, John pulled Sherlock close at the kitchen. He smiled up at him, then glanced at the entryway. Sherlock glanced up, then arched a brow. 

“It’s tradition,” John smiled and leaned in for a kiss. Sherlock met him halfway. A perfectly sweet, gentle kiss that held the hint of promise for the rest of the evening. 

“Mistletoe is a bit cliche,” Sherlock said after they pulled apart, though John felt Sherlock’s smile against his lips.

“I thought it was rather romantic,” John sniffed.

“Well, you are a romantic,” Sherlock replied and leaned in for another sweet kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for following along and reading these 221b chapters! I had a lot of fun writing these fluffy boys at Christmas and I hope you enjoyed them, as well. 💜💜💜


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